Holding On
by purehalo
Summary: The Winchester's first job after WIAWSNB doesn't go so well, when one of them is injured the brothers get an insight into each others fears. Yes, i'm back to beat up Dean and give Sam plenty of Angst!
1. Chapter 1

Hey dear, beloved readers. I'm back! Took some time off to work on other stuff, have me a break, meet Jensen. You know, the usual!! Hope you are all well xxx

So here we are again, another excuse to beat up one of the brothers and have some touching moments. This story is set inbetween 'What is and what should never be' and 'All hell breaks loose'. There were so many unresolved issues in WIAWSNB that i just had to deal with a few of them. (Oh , and hurt someone in the process, cos that's always fun!)

Disclaimer: The Krip allows us to borrow, not buy

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Chapter One

He'd watched with sick fascination as the figure advanced with lightening speed. His attention had been diverted by the sound of his brother in pain. The sound of him scream.

He'd screamed his name.

It had been a warning too late, the cold fingers around his neck before he could raise the gun to fire the salt and buy them some time.

It had been a warning too late as the pressure began to build behind his eyes, the spots dancing across his vision as his body ached for oxygen, his mind pleading for help from a father who would never come. His eyes searching for a brother he couldn't see. His heart searching for a life that was never his, a past he could never believe, a hope he could barely taste.

Within the space of a few seconds Sam had crumpled to the floor only to be driven back to his feet by the panic as he watched the spirit latch onto his brother and lift him skyward by his neck. Dean's feet swung as they attempted to reclaim their purchase on the floor. Their only shotgun held tightly within his grip. This was one spirit who wasn't willing to join their loved ones in the afterlife easily. Both brothers had been thrown around like rag dolls for the past half an hour in an attempt to reach the urn that not only held the ashes of Tom Grey but also a lock of his hair, a keep sake that his wife felt she deserved.

When would people learn?

Tom had been murdered in a back alley, a quick shortcut home to be there in time for his wife's surprise party.

What a surprise.

He'd been held at knife point and robbed, then, thinking it was over had tried to leave, only to then be stabbed and beaten repeatedly. When Ashley had gone to identify his body she had insisted on keeping a lock of his long black hair. Hair she had often run her fingers through. A soothing motion as much for her husband as it had been for her. He was a musician, a guitarist and one that Dean mused he would have been in awe of. The guy had great taste in music. Tesla, Ratt, Bad Company, Social Distortion and The Clash. A mixed bag of styles and sounds that culminated in one hell of a covers band.

Damn. It was never fair.

Had Tom been co-operative Dean would have insisted on a little show. Life never works out the way you think it will, currently Dean was insisting that Tom let go and allow precious air back into his lungs. Allow his feet to touch the floor. Allow him to live.

Sam sprung into action as he watched Dean's eyes roll back into his head. He ran behind Tom and grabbed the urn, hoping and praying the spirit was well enough distracted to allow him to finish the job. Before Sam had a chance to pry the hair from the hole he was thrown across the room, landing heavily against the opposite wall.

Sam groaned as he felt all his joints pop and protest at the workout he was subjecting them too.

"Where is she?"

Tom had been asking the same question over and over. He was looking for Ashley. His beloved Ashley. She was all he wanted, all he needed. Once he had her he would be able to pass on to the next life. To rest in peace and relive his life with her. His Ashley.

"Tom, listen to me, she's not here. We can take you to her though."

"WHERE IS SHE?"

How do you tell a dead spirit, intent on killing you should you answer incorrectly, that the love of his life and the Shelley to his Eric was currently shacking up with a new guy and about to sell the house he currently haunted in order to save for the impending birth of her and her new husbands baby?

Sam was coming up blank.

Glancing behind Tom gave Sam renewed strength. Dean was sprawled against the wall, half prone. His lips were parted but his face was too pale. Sam sprung into action and rolled to his left , grabbing the shotgun from Dean's now lax grip, as he aimed to fire Tom advanced once again and threw Sam. This time however he kept his hands around the shot gun, firing as his roll came to a stop by the window. He caught Tom in the torso, the spirit immediately dissipating with a cry of defeat. He didn't have long, this guy kept coming back quicker and quicker. Sam grabbed the urn and smashed it into the floor, pulling a book of matches from one pocket and a small canister of salt from the other he set alight the lock of hair and quickly scooted back as the acrid smell threatened to knock him off his knees.

He was by Dean's side before the full lock of hair had caught light. Without a second thought he pulled Dean's legs so that his brother slid fully to the floor, tilting back his head he checked first for a pulse, then for air.

No sound.

No air.

Sam rolled Dean onto his side and thumped his back hard but still no air went into his lungs.

Focus, ignore the panic. Ignore the thought that he could lose Dean . Again. Rolling his brother onto his back again, Sam tilted his brother's head back and felt his throat, frowning as he realised how bruised the skin was. Maybe Tom had crushed Dean's wind pipe? Sam felt a wave of dizziness which he ignored. Dean needed him. His brother needed him. Opening his mouth the sight inside made Sam gag.

Dean's tongue had disappeared down his throat.

"Oh god! DEAN!" Ignoring the rush of blood in his ears and the fear that was enveloping him, Sam opened Dean's mouth as far as he could and slipped two fingers inside, desperately trying to gain purchase on the muscle that was killing his brother. Dean's lips had turned blue, spurring Sam to abandon the desire to not hurt his brother. He grabbed hold and dug his nails in, pulling Dean's tongue from his throat in one motion. Within seconds Dean's body pulled in a massive breath of air. Sam kept a hand on Dean's chest, feeling the long drawn out labour of his lungs pulling in air, the other hand cupping his face.

"Dean?"

Gentle slaps to his cheeks. A careful pinch to his earlobe.

"Dean."

Strong shake of his shoulder.

Dean moaned. It was a hoarse sound and was quickly followed by a bout of painful coughing.

"Easy, easy man." Sam gently rolled Dean to his side. His brother was yet to open his eyes so Sam couldn't tell if he was even awake yet. Thankfully his lips were starting to return to their natural colour. The redness around Dean's mouth making his face look even paler. He looked around, surveying the damage and figuring the neighbours would probably start to think more was going on here than two removal men checking out the rooms. They needed to get out of there before anyone decided to phone the police.

Sam gathered their things and ran out to the Impala, throwing the bag into the trunk he opened the rear door and ran back to the house to get Dean. His brother still hadn't moved but at least he looked over as Sam ran back into the room.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

Dean swallowed several times before he attempted to speak.

"Peachey. Not everyday I get to rock out with a musician." He winced at the pain the whisper caused.

"We need to get out of here. Now."

"Uh huh," Dean attempted to leverage himself up, didn't even consider fighting his brother as an arm was hooked under his. He walked forward under Sam's steam more than his own and barely frowned as he was led to the back seat. With his knee's bent he laid down and closed his eyes. Happy to be back in his baby. Not so happy when Sam jumped in and revved the engine. Too tired to even try to talk, Dean reached up and clipped his brother's head.

"You wanna drive Dean?"

Sam's answer was another clip to his head.

Sam drove in silence. The radio off so he could listen to Dean's painful breathing. The wheezing seemed to be getting worse and he knew they should have been heading to the hospital, not the motel. The thought had occurred to Sam to risk taking Dean to the medical centre in the town, but it was too risky. Who knew where Henrickson was. He had to weigh the options, force his brother to allow him to take care of him, or risk life imprisonment should they get lucky and Dean managed to sidestep the death penalty.

No contest.

Sam ran a hand through his hair as the weight of the situation pressed into his skull and threatened to break apart his mind. How did they end up like this? How did it come to this? Why them? Why now? He'd watched Dean go through so much, watched his brother be tortured not only by his hands, as possessed as they were, but also by his mind's wishes, his dreams for them all. His hopes for Sam had put a pressure and a responsibility on the younger man more than the older would ever know. Sam knew he was living a life Dean never wanted for him. He knew he was always going to be wishing for more, hoping for a break. Living his life through his younger brother.

How was that fair? On either man.

Sam was saved from his mind and it's overwhelming thoughts by the sound of gentle singing coming from the back seat. He quieted his breathing and relaxed as he concentrated on the words.

"_I see him there most every day,_

_A lonely man and his guitar._

_In his eyes, i see the pain,_

_All the faces and the places_

_All the trouble that he'd seen.__"_

How did his brother do that? There he was, happily stuck in a spiral of thoughts leading to the inevitable SamFreakOut and then Dean comes along and sings one of his hair metal power ballads and suddenly, somehow, Sam knows they'll get through.

Damn him.

"Hey Dean, that's a little sappy for you isn't it?"

"Dude that song's been stuck in my head for days." Dean whispered.

"I guess it's better than REO. Maybe you should rest your voice?"

"Might as well use it while I can."

"It getting worse?" Sam looked up into the rear view and ignored the sudden sense of dé·jà vu as he surveyed his ailing brother.

"Little bit. My tongue hurts like hell. "

"We're almost at the motel, just take it easy."

"What else am I gonna do in the back seat Sammy?"

"Save your voice Dean."

"Bite me."

"In an hour or so you won't have any comeback." Sam smiled smugly into the rear view at his brother.

Dean frowned. Then smiled.

"Dude, with me there's never any comeback."

Sam looked at his brother quizzically, took in the pale expression, the full grin and the look of absolute cave man in his eyes.

"Oh man come on that's disgusting."

TBC

Review , go on, just to make my day!


	2. Chapter 2

I can't thank you all enough for your kind reviews!! And to all those who read only (i know you're out there!)- thanks for taking the time x

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Chapter Two

"Couple more steps man. That's it. Almost there."

"Quit talking to me like a chimp Sam." Whispered Dean.

"Sorry man , what was that? Didn't quite hear you."

"You're an evil bastard you know that?"

"And you're gonna be relying on this evil bastard to look after you so play nice."

"Bitch."

Sam allowed Dean to push him away as he slowly sank onto the mattress with a barely audible groan. The journey had taken them almost half an hour, even without the stop off for Sam to get supplies and book them in for a few more extra days with the hotel manager. In that space of time Dean's throat and tongue had swollen, the large red hand prints around his neck giving way to large indistinguishable black and brown marks encircling his entire throat.

Sam worked his coat off carefully, mindful of his own bruises. He sighed when he heard a croaked , "You ok Sammy?", why couldn't Dean just focus on himself for once. It was all Sam had wanted, since Dean had opened up all those months before at the side of the road Sam had thought that had been the turning point. His brother would lean on him, allow him to be the carer instead of the caree. But no, he'd shrugged it off and carried on as usual. Only allowing Sam to see small snippets of the vulnerable Dean that he so badly wanted to help heal. Why was it so difficult? His father had been the same. Both men had seemed incapable of seeing Sam as a man in his own right. Not the youngest son, not the younger brother. Always the baby. It was a label Sam had spent his adult life trying to shrug off. Even when he'd rescued his brother, even when he'd seen the tears, even then Dean had been protecting him.

Sam turned to glare at the figure laying on the bed. Dean was squinting up at him, still trying to be the brave, dependable big brother. Yet there were cracks there that Sam could see so much easier than before. Cracks the Djin had uncovered. A life Sam realised his brother missed, longed for. A life of normal he had tasted for four short years. A life he always assumed Dean never missed. He seemed suited to hunting. These were his talents, his people and the road his home. Or maybe that's just what Sam had always assumed seeing as he had never known any different and his brother had never complained.

"I'm fine Dean."

"Sure?"

"Yeah man." Sam softened as he stepped up to the bed, sitting carefully by Dean's hip. "How are you feeling?"

Dean raised his eyes and smiled.

"I mean it man, come on. You should be in the hospital so the least you're gonna do is be honest with me."

Dean's look of surprise would have been comical had it not been quickly followed by a grimace.

"Your throat really sore?"

"It'll be ok." Whispered Dean.

"Your head hurt?"

"It'll pass." Whispered Dean.

"How about your ribs and back? You slammed pretty hard into that wall you know."

"So did you."

Sam felt the anger building and ground his fist into the bedspread.

"Listen man, you're hurt, you almost died, your throat is so swollen that right now you're in danger of it being a major problem with your breathing. I can hear that it hurts already. You're bruised beyond belief and you swallowed your own damn tongue and all you say is that you're ok and it'll pass? Man what is with you?" Sam's voice rose to a level Dean was sure would split his head. "I mean for gods sake Dean you used yourself as bait. Do you really think that's something I wouldn't rip you for? What the hell?! Now I should have taken you straight to the hospital, I'm bruised and battered and tired as hell but the guilt that I brought you back to this stupid dirty motel room is more painful than any of that other stuff. Now we're stuck here while you get well. I'm gonna make you well, whether you want me to or not. It's the least you can do after scaring the crap outta me. TWICE I MIGHT ADD THANKS TO YOU GOING OFF LOOKING FOR THAT DJIN. So what about it Dean? Huh?"

Dean stared intently at the bedspread, noting the way Sam's fingers had actually punched a hole in the material. He could feel the vibration of anger in the room, feel the pain and helplessness. Yet he couldn't let go. How was he supposed to just stop and let Sam be 'big brother' for a while?

"Rooms not dirty."

"What?"

"Rooms not dirty." Dean smiled up at his brother.

"Please Dean."

"I know, ok? I know. But I can't."

"You can try."

"My throat really hurts." Dean looked up at Sam and couldn't look away. He saw relief and love in equal parts in those deep soulful eyes and it tore him open to know the worry he'd recently put his brother through. "My head hurts."

"Where?"

Dean carefully motioned to the back of his skull. Sam gently felt around his head and carefully probed the goose egg that had formed. He then leaned forward and held Dean's chin as he checked his pupils.

"No concussion."

"I know."

"Well, with you I always need to double check. Anything else?"

"Feel like I have whiplash."

"Your neck really sore?"

Dean nodded in answer.

"You feel really tired too?"

Dean shook his head carefully as he fought to keep his eyes from drooping.

"Ok, just stay awake a little longer. I wanna try to get that swelling down before you rest up. Ok?"

"Your turn."

"What?"

"I gotta know you're ok."

"I'm good man, honestly. Bruised and tired but thankful as hell that the ghost didn't manage to drop that coffee table on my head."

"So my little diversion was good for something."

"I'm still not happy about that."

"Worked though."

"Yeah, but couldn't you have said something other than 'I had your wife and she liked it' ?"

"Man have you never seen the Crow? That Tom dude was the spitting image of Draven.I knew that would get him away from you."

"I would have gotten away."

Dean smiled at Sam who frowned and attempted to sit up taller and broaden his shoulders.

"Whatever man."

Sam stood and grabbed the ice bucket, he was back with it full to the brim just as Dean was losing his battle to stay awake.

"Hey! Not yet."

"Please man." It was barely a whisper and broke Sam's heart. Dean looked so tired, so exhausted with the hunt, the injuries. With life? He'd seemed so weary lately, like everything was a conscious effort.

Dean watched as Sam laid a towel on the table and began wrapping it around some of the ice he'd brought back. His throat was on fire, his neck barely movable and he was tired, so very very tired. There was also a part of him that was so scared. As the black spots had danced across his vision Dean had welcomed the serenity the feeling brought. The peace. The promise of so many legends that told him his mother would be waiting for him on the other side. He'd had a taste of her again, had a feel of her. Felt those arms wrap around him, the warmth of the body that gave him life pressed up against him. The feeling that everything was alright. His mother would make it all better and they'd be as one again, inseparable like before up there in heaven where the tears would never fall and the world would never end. He'd wanted so badly to go to her. He'd resisted once, but it had taken all his strength to leave. She'd been there, standing before him as the knife had broken skin and ripped through muscle and fibre, organs and life. He didn't have the strength to leave her again. He wanted her so badly. He watched Sam and began to wonder if he had the right to chose. Sam or his mother? He'd chosen Sam the first time, but as the spirit had choked him he'd felt her pulling him closer. Yet still he'd chosen Sam, managed to wrangle his attackers hold enough for a few precious breath's of oxygen before he'd been dropped unceremoniously to the floor and swallowed his own damn tongue.

Sam. Always Sam that he swore to protect. But he so desperately wanted his mother. It was unfair to have her again only to let her go. Maybe next time he'd chose differently. If there ever was a next time. Third time lucky? That was never in the Winchester's fate.

"Can you take off your jacket?"

Dean raised tired eyes to his brother, he tried to sit up, he really did. But his limbs were one big ache, having been starved of oxygen and thrown around like sticks. He felt as if he'd been swimming for hours. Everything hurt. But his neck and throat were the worse. It wasn't so much an out and out pain, but an ache and a pressure that was building by the minute. Dean shook his head slightly and Sam thanked every god he knew that his brother was letting him see the misery and help.

He carefully pulled Dean forward and held him against his chest as he pulled the jacket from Dean's arms. Keeping his hand splayed supportively around his brother's neck, Sam gently laid him back down and reached for the thin towel that encompassed the ice.

"It's gonna be cold."

Dean mouthed a 'no shit' and closed his eyes as the cool feeling penetrated his skin. He couldn't hold back the contented moan as the cold chased back the ache and soothed his throat. He barely noticed as Sam tiled his head gently forward and slowly filled his mouth with water that tasted strange, even in his barely conscious state Dean knew he was drinking soluble aspirin. Way to go Sammy. Something cold was brought to his lips and Dean opened his mouth, gratefully accepting the piece of ice that instantly eased his battered tongue. What a great little brother. Once the ice had fully melted Sam nodded and Dean allowed his eyes to grow heavier, his mind seemed to leave his body as Dean finally gave in to sleep. Sam resisted the urge to keep his brother awake. There was no point. If the swelling continued then he'd just deal with it. Dean needed sleep. As much as he thought he'd hidden it Sam knew all about the sleepless nights. Had been working his own ruse as he'd watched Dean pace up and down for hours. Both pretending to the other that a good nights sleep was had.

Damn Djin. He'd pulled Dean from it's clutches only two weeks prior. Was that all it had been? Just two weeks?

Sam swapped out the now warm cloth for another and added pressure to the base of Dean's throat, hoping to ease the discomfort the injury was causing to his sleep. Every breath was laboured. Dean's chest beginning to heave with the exertion. The worry tripled as beads of sweat started to break out on his brothers face. Sam, not wanting to wake him, cut away the t-shirt and worked the boots and jeans from his brother with the stealth of someone much older and formally trained in dealing with the injured.

Dean was one big bruise, but Sam couldn't be annoyed, he knew under his own t-shirt was a colourful array of broken skin and bruising to rival Dean's. He sighed with relief as Dean settled and his breathing evened. Taking the respite for all it's worth Sam made his way into the small bathroom and undressed, stepping into the shower and allowing the warm water to soothe his muscles and chase away the aches. He leant an arm against the wall and allowed his head to fall under the spray. For a few moments nothing else mattered. For a few moments all that existed was the warmth travelling through his hair and down his face, down his back. Leaving a trail of peace in it's wake.

TBC

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Please review, the pony needs a carrott...


	3. Chapter 3

Do you guys know how much us writers treasure your words? Well, we do. I keep every single review printed and filed in a folder at home. Whenever i feel i need some inspiration or a confidence boost it's your words i turn to. x

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Chapter Three

Sam watched his brother as he slept, he kept applying the cold compresses in an attempt to stave off the swelling. Dean had been asleep for a few hours giving Sam enough time to clean him up and tend to his cuts. All were superficial and required nothing more than a dab of iodine. He had Dean out of his jeans and into his sweats, all wrapped up in a blanket before he even began to show signs of waking. Sam sat patiently by as Dean fought to open his eyes. His eyelids seemed so heavy and if he didn't know any better Dean would have sworn Sam had glued them shut while he slept.

"Hey. How you feeling?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer but the breath caught in his throat launching him into a painful coughing fit that was barely audible.

"Easy man." Sam rolled Dean to his side and rubbed his back until the attack passed. Running his hand up to Dean's neck Sam started a gentle massage in an attempt to ease the ache that no doubt had made itself at home in his brothers neck.

Dean relaxed slightly at the motion. Allowed his mind to wander back to the past couple of weeks, to the Sam that could have been instead of the Sam that was. To the life that was potentially his before he lost everything. His mind stuck on the image of baby Sammy in his arms, carrying him outside, saving him from a fire that could never have been.

Sam sighed as Dean rolled onto his back, effectively ending the moment and trying to reclaim his stoic, hard as nails big-brother persona.

Albeit mute.

"So, how you feeling?"

Dean smiled , Sam frowned.

"Come on, please just tell me."

Dean motioned to his throat and shook his head.

"Ok, well how about just giving me a thumbs up or a thumbs down?"

Dean raised a finger.

"Cute. So your throat is bad, how's your neck?"

Dean sighed and decided if he wanted the pain to be gone and to get back on his feet quicker he was gonna need the little squirts help. He gave the thumbs down.

"How's your chest feel?"

Thumbs up.

"Headache?"

Thumbs up.

"That's pretty good." Sam reached forward and gently placed his fingers on either side of Dean's throat. He palpated the area and was pleased to find the swelling hadn't got any worse.

"Think you can eat something?"

Dean nodded and instantly regretted the action. Sam took his enthusiasm as a yes.

He had to admit he was hungry as hell and watched impatiently as Sam went to the small excuse for a kitchen in their room. He pulled a pudding from the fridge and made his way over to Dean, ignoring the elder's frown as he pulled the top and dipped the spoon into the thick chocolate.

Dean frowned harder and Sam could almost hear the words, 'I can do that myself you ass'.

"Dean, you need to keep still so you don't aggravate your neck. It seems like the swelling is calming down but I don't want you adding further injury to your neck."

Dean made a talking motion with his hands as he silently mocked his little brother. His stomach growled expectantly so he acquiesced to it's demands and that of his brothers and opened his mouth.

Then quickly closed it as Sam made a choo choo noise.

"Come on Dean , open up, chocolate pudding express is on it's way. Now come on, that's just rude."

Dean let his hand fall back down to the mattress and opened his mouth again, giving Sam a full view of the redness of his throat. The younger hunter smiled apologetically and spooned a mouthful of the cool, easily swallowed pudding into the older man's mouth.

The look of bliss was short lived on Dean's face as he swallowed the pudding. His throat protesting the motion and reminding him how close he came to turning into a smurf. He was about to shake his head at the next spoonful when his stomach voiced it's opposition.

It took Sam almost twenty minutes to help his brother eat one small pot of pudding. Dean's eyes growing heavier as the fatigue from the effort began to wear him out. Once finished he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift away. Unaware of the warm towel Sam wrapped gently around his neck.

Sam rested back against his own bed a few hours later. Satisfied that he'd kept the swelling controlled and the bruising around Dean's throat had calmed. His face had finally lost the blue tinge and his colour was coming back. Much to Sam's relief. He'd looked so drained and so tired, just like he had when Sam had found him in the Djin's layer, found him hanging, helpless. Barely holding on yet fighting to stay with Sam, fighting to stay so that he could finish his job. Look after Sam and keep him safe. Why was it he was willing to do so much yet letting Sam help in return was such a conscious effort?

People said having a little brother was a pain in the ass. Well it was nothing compared to having an overprotective, loyal as hell older brother. It was something Sam was going to work on, something he decided Dean needed to let go of. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage it, but Sam was determined to take it on himself to ensure that someone looked out for Dean. Whether he knew it or not.

He was pulled from his musings by a flash of movement to his left. Movement from Dean. Sam glanced at the clock and sighed. Every night at 3am Dean would have his nightmare. Every night for the past two weeks. Every night since the Djin had awakened all his pain, all his hopes that would never be fulfilled, all the horrors he'd had to bear witness to. The nightmare always lasted a few minutes before Dean would wake suddenly and begin his routine of pacing. His routine that he was oblivious to Sam being aware of.

Not tonight though.

Tonight Sam had other plans. He stood and quietly made his way to Dean's bed, rolling his brother carefully onto his side he once again began to massage his neck. This time without any resistance. Small circles with his thumb and fingers. Gentle motions to ease the ache and remind his brother that he wasn't alone, that not all his family had died. He was needed. He was anchored.

Dean took a deep breath. His body trembled slightly so Sam placed his other hand around his brother's throat and began massaging carefully under his ears. His thumb and finger making their way from beneath his ears down his throat to meet in the middle. Repeating the process while his right hand soothed in a circular motion around his neck, up through his hair, then back to his neck. Dean sighed and settled. Rolling slightly further forward, allowing Sam to reposition and begin to massage his brother's shoulder blades, down his spine and back up to his neck.

A pattern quickly established, Sam continued until his hands ached. He stopped at almost 4am, grabbed the pillows from his bed and propped them behind Dean's back, effectively keeping him on his side. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and made his way to his own bed, sinking into the mattress and falling asleep almost instantly. Safe in the knowledge that if Dean wouldn't let him help with some things, he would just have to find a way round the stubborn bastard.

Both men slept until almost noon. Dean waking first, his eyes falling on his brother. Sam was sprawled face first on the bed, his right arm and leg hanging off and laying against the floor. How the hell did he sleep comfortably like that? Only a freak wouldn't find that painful. Dean glared at the freak when he realised he was wedged on his side, the action of trying to dislodge the pillows from behind him reminding him his ribs had taken one hell of a knocking.

"Sam?" It was a whisper, but hell it was the happiest sound Sam had heard in a while.

"Hey! You're awake."

"No shit Sherlock. Why am I stuck?"

"Sorry man, had to keep you on your side so you didn't decide to snack on your tongue again."

"I didn't do that on purpose."

Dean frowned up at Sam as his brother helped him roll onto his back .

"How do you feel?"

"Better actually."

"Yeah? Well you look better, you scared the crap outta me yesterday. Man you were turning blue at one point."

"Like a smurf."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, you gonna help me up or what?"

"Dean you need to rest." Sam barely concealed the exasperation in his tone. "You need to stay in bed at least another day and get your strength back. Man we spoke about this. You need to get better and you were gonna let me help you get better. I'm not asking for much here man."

Dean raised his hand. Sam ignored him and carried on.

"You stopped breathing Dean so you need to rest . The swelling has barely gone down yet you wanna hop on out of this bed and move on even though you're not 100 percent. So please Dean."

Dean waved his raised hand.

"I just want you to let me help and I want you to stay in this bed. Is that really too much to ask. Why are you waving your hand? What? What is it?"

"Need to pee. Once I pee, then I need to eat, after that, I want to sleep."

Dean kept his smirk inside as Sam's face flushed with colour.

"Oh, well you could have said."

"You seemed to be on a roll, I felt rude interrupting."

"Well next time speak up."

"Speak up? You mean whisper louder?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Said Sam as he helped Dean walk slowly to the bathroom, he was waved away but thankful he didn't hear the latch on the door being moved into place.

From behind the door Sam heard gentle singing. Whatever the injury, whatever the trouble he was in Dean would find a song to calm him, to centre him. Even with his throat raw his brother suffered the burn to sing in a soft voice. To calm the emotions raging within. Sam smiled as he listened.

"_There was a time,_

_There was a day,_

_They'd come from miles around._

_They all knew his name._

_But day's gone by are gone,_

_Now only memories remain"_

TBC.

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Please review. Baby needs her bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again i can't thank you all enough for your reviews and for taking the time to read this xxx To the peaple i couldn't reply to please know your words mean so much.

To the person who asked about siblings carrying the older/younger bond into childhood (Sorry i couldn't reply as you left no email addy) , in answer to your question, i have a younger brother (five years younger) we have that bond that you asked about, it runs so deep that i don't think i would be able to breathe without him. He is forever my younger brother and we always introduce each other as the 'older sister' 'younger brother'. It's just the way we are. I think if it's something you've always done then it's ingrained. I am amazingly proud to be my bro's older sister, as he is to be my younger brother. We've been through so much together that maybe thats why we're so close. My brother is over 6' and is lean muscle, but he's mine to protect so if anyone sides up to him i get myself in the way. Thats how it is for some older siblings. Thats their role. To protect. I hope that answers your question. x

ok, now onto the last chapter.

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Chapter Four

His chest felt constricted yet still he ran . Ran toward her, she stood at the edge with arms wide open. Beckoning.

He ran until his feet blistered and his muscles burned yet still he couldn't reach her.

Yet still she stood, arms wide open. Her only focus her son. His only focus the mother he so desperately wished to be with. To hold and treasure, the have as his own as she once was.

With every step he seemed to get farther and farther away, he could see her standing there, the white nightgown billowing in the wind. A dark shape behind her, walking forward. He tried to scream, tried to warn her. Tried to save her from the death that would end his life. The flames billowed behind but still he ran toward them, the shape wrapped it's arms around his mother and she screamed, screamed for Sammy.

Dean gasped as his body tried to jump upward away from the dream, away from the bed that had beckoned sleep and lulled him into a false sense of security. The second he started his ascent the air was pulled from his lungs and his throat could barely pull in replacements. Sam was by his side in seconds, holding him upright, rubbing his back but still he couldn't get enough air. His heart began to race and as the beats increased he was sure that Sam was being deafened by the noise. The rubbing on his back became rhythmic thumping , suddenly his world tilted and was pulled from him and then he was laying down, a hand against his chest. . Words being forced past the thud thud thud of his heart. The hand again, but this time it moved from his chest to his throat and began to massage. He needed Sammy. Where was Sammy? If he couldn't have his mother, if he was denied his father, then he'd protect Sammy till he'd succeeded, until his little brother lived his life fully and never had to know pain again, never had to know loss again. He was the guardian of the innocence yet he had failed and now he didn't know where his brother was. Asleep again on the job Dean. Why is it every time you sleep or turn away you lose Sam? Why is it you can't follow orders? So sorry Dad, so sorry.

Sam watched as Dean lost the fight and his eyes once again rolled back. Not good, so not good. His brother had slept fitfully for two hours but in the last half an hour his breathing had become ragged. Sam had sat by his brother again and checked his throat. It didn't seem any more swollen. In fact it seemed to be almost back to it's normal size. That's when he'd noticed the REM. That's when he'd realised Dean was trapped inside the dream, unable to set himself free. Sam had rushed to get some water to cool his brother down. When he'd begun to hyperventilate he'd barely made it back in time to help Dean sit up . Yet still he couldn't breathe.

Sam laid his brother back down and rubbed his chest, he was hyperventilating but no amount of coaching, no amount a reassuring touches seemed to help ground Dean. He passed out suddenly, his breathing catching and then nothing.

Pulling him upright Sam slid behind him and let Dean's body rest against his own. He was breathing but it was so shallow, so weak. Not the Dean he knew, not the Dean that raised him. His Dean was strong and invincible. When did it all go so wrong? When did the joke become the sting in their lives? The infection in their happiness. All of it happened too quickly. All of it over in less than two years. So many people had died. He couldn't lose Dean. All other pain and grief had threatened to drag Sam under, threatened to show him the way out. But always there was hope , always there was light. His brother guided him through the darkness. He always knew the way. No, he'd always known the way. Now Sam knew they both needed to pull each other through. Dean had opened up, his fears, his vulnerabilities. But Sam knew that was barely a scratch in the surface of the pain that ran so deep. Why didn't he ever realise how damaged his brother was? He tightened his hold on his brother as he realised how much they really had in common. How much loss they both held, how all their loved ones had flown away. All they wanted to do was fly after them.

"Sam?"

"Hey! Hey man, you're ok Dean, it's ok, you're ok."

Dean felt Sam grip onto him tighter. Little brother was panicking. Had he caused that? His body ached all over and he had a vague recollection of the dream that had plagued him for the past two weeks. The lingering pain. A pain he could deal with. No problem. Don't worry Sam I'm ok, just gotta catch my breath.

"It's ok Sam."

"What?" Laughed Sam disbelievingly.

"It's ok, I'm ok."

"No man, no you're not. You just hyperventilated and passed out."

"That's no excuse."

"What? No excuse for what?"

"For your little chick flick huggy moment. Come on dude get out from under me. We're brothers man and you know I don't swing that way."

Sam spluttered as he tried to control the blush that crept across his features. He carefully manoeuvred out from beneath Dean and piled the pillows up behind his brother, keeping him upright to ease his breathing.

"You're a pervert you know that?"

"I wasn't the one cuddling his big brother." Whispered Dean.

"I wasn't cuddling!"

"Bet you used to cuddle Jess."

"She liked it."

"Bet you instigated it."

Sam had no rebuttal, he just stood, open mouthed and smiling slightly as he remembered so many happy memories with his Jessica. Dean grinned as he watched the panic literally leaving his brother. That was the one thing he was always good at. Bringing Sam out of whatever panic was taking him over, putting him back into a happy place and allowing him to relax before the weight of the moment overcame him.

Sam allowed his body to relax, but refused to let Dean deflect the conversation so easily.

"So what were you dreaming?"

"Huh?" Croaked Dean.

"Your dream, what was it about?"

Dean pursed his lips as he watched Sam boil the kettle. "Don't remember." He averted his eyes , not wanting to lie directly to his brother.

"That's crap and you know it."

Sam poured hot water onto a cloth and waited for it to cool slightly before bringing it to Dean, he gently pulled Dean's head forward and wrapped the cloth around his neck and throat. The relief obvious as Dean closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh.

"Feel better?"

Dean nodded. He still couldn't look Sam in the eyes but he knew what look he was getting. It was the 'I'll sit here and wait for you to talk until the oceans rise to drown us' look. Dean swallowed several times, not trusting his voice and not just because of the injuries he'd sustained.

He shrugged.

Sam waited.

He looked to his right, toward the door.

Sam waited.

He sighed and swallowed. Closed his eyes and tried to ignore the presence next to him.

And still Sam waited.

"Mum."

Sam kept quiet.

"She was standing on a cliff and I couldn't get to her." Dean closed his eyes as Sam put a hand on his shoulder. An anchor against the emotions that were threatening to spill. Had been boiling to the surface since he'd pulled himself from the Djin's clutches.

"I miss her so much Sam, even in my dreams I can't get close enough. Even in my wishes it never works out."

"Dean.."

"It's worth it, I know, you said." Even in a broken whisper the tone of Dean's voice hurt Sam.

"I know, I know what I said and I still stand by it. All we're sacrificed and all we've lost. It's worth it Dean. We've saved so many people. We've helped so many and protected so many and through it all it's a little bit of revenge on the evil that took Jess, that took Mum. That took Dad."

Dean lifted tearful eyes to his brother.

"Dean, man, we've made such a difference. And yeah, if I could I would change it all. For a second more with Jess and Mum and Dad. A second more of _real _time with them. Not a wish, not a dream, but real honest to god time with them as they were. But it's not gonna happen. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Dean blamed the soreness of his throat for the catch in his voice.

"No, not yet." Sam smiled at his brother, at the full attention he currently had. "But someday we will have that time again. Someday we will be able to go to them. They'll be waiting for us. You might not believe but I do."

"Enough for the both of us?"

"More than enough."

"It sucks."

"Yeah, it really does. But until it's our time to go to them. And I mean our _real _time to go to them. Then we're gonna fight and carry on. And that means not putting ourselves in harms way needlessly."

"He was gonna drop a coffee table on your head." Defended Dean.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's no excuse for throwing yourself in harms way Dean. You dragged yourself free of the Djin because there are more people to save, there's more good to do. You held on man."

"And for you." Had Sam not been so close he would have missed the words.

"It took strength Dean . And I'm so proud of you for doing that. For coming back to me. You had it all but you left."

"I didn't have it all, we weren't ..you know." Dean gestured weakly with his hand.

"I know. But we are. So please man. No more reckless moves. And please let me help you ok?"

Dean nodded and allowed his brother to pull the covers up to his chest. Sam replaced the now cool towel with a warmer one and watched as Dean settled further into the bed. The weight that had been around his shoulders for the past two weeks lifted slightly. Dean had only conceded a small amount but it was enough. More than Sam had expected. Dean had come back for him, had fought his way back to the only real family he still had. His brothers loyalty always swelled Sam's heart. Always made him feel guilty for the times when he'd left.

He wouldn't be leaving his brother again . Never . It was the two of them against the evil in the world. Side by side. Holding on.

Sam smirked towards his brother and was rewarded with a finger in return. But as Dean's soft singing filtered gently through the room Sam felt his eyes grow heavy and his soul grow light as he drifted towards peaceful sleep.

"_Then he starts to play._

_Suddenly the pain slowly fades away,_

_Tattered, torn and frayed,_

_There's a place within his heart_

_He'll always save for the song and emotion."_

Fin.

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The song Dean sings througout is called 'Song and Emotion' by Tesla. Amazing song and one you should go listen to ;o)

Thanks again , and i'll see you at the next fic...


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